But the greatest is love
by Cornelia Spring
Summary: AU after DH: When Hermione Granger goes back to school, things are much more different than she'd imagined. Although she still has feelings for Ron, things slowly begin to change... Next to that, someone really doesn't want her there. Innocent for now, will have M rating later on.
1. Chapter One

Hi there! This is my very first fanfiction, so there's probably much to learn! Please feel free to review and tell me how I could improve my writing.

With love,  
Cornelia Spring

 _ **Disclaimer:** I do not own anything from the magical world of Harry Potter and Criminal Minds._

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"So... you're actually going to do it," he said in amazement. The three of them were sitting round the table in the colourful kitchen of The Burrow. Ron was staring at Hermione with big eyes, his long arms hanging defeated next to his body while his shoulders indicated the same thing. "I really didn't think you'd do it. We've learned so much on our own," he told her, shifting his perplexed eyes to Harry and back to the girl in front of him again.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not really sure why you're surprised. It feels important to finish what I started," she answered, looking Ron directly in the eyes with an amused grin on her face. "Besides, I'm not sure what to do with my life now it's all over. It's always been about the war, really," she sighed, breaking the eye contact. The young woman felt uneasy under the gaze of her newly begotten boyfriend.

"Do you think I'm crazy too?" She asked the other person at the table, who hadn't said anything yet. Ron immediately began to splutter something about how he didn't think she was nuts, but Harry just looked at Hermione with quiet interest.

"No," he said slowly, then shrugged, "I have thought about it too. Just not for the same reasons."

"But… but," Ron stammered, "we got asked to be AURORS! Why would we want to go back to school?"

"I'm not making you go with me, now, am I," Hermione remarked in turn, but in vain. Ron was now waving his hands next to his head. "You know, it can probably wait, if that's what you really want. I just thought it would be nice." He looked at his friends. "Us three. Fighting evil. Being AURORS." His body relaxed as his eyes fixed somewhere just above Hermione's head, with a foolish grin on his face as if being mesmerized. Harry laughed.

"Yes, very nice," Hermione said, half irritated and half amused. She sighed while grabbing the half empty cup of tea in front of her, wrapping her hands carefully around it to warm them up. It wasn't actually necessary, because the sun was shining brightly outside and although the wind could still be cold, the kitchen was getting hotter and hotter. But for some reason still, Hermione's fingers felt cold.

"It just feels wrong not to take the final steps," she said, a more stubborn look creeping onto her face, "how are future employers going to know how good you are when you can't even tell how many NEWTs you have?"

Ron chuckled. "I'm sure all the teachers are willing to give you a NEWT in advance for every subject you have." He smiled at his girlfriend in a very you're-nuts-and-I'm-proud-of-you way. Harry looked uncomfortable, looked around and took a pastry off of the plate with five different sorts, just as colourful as the kitchen. Hermione, however, felt a slight blush coming up, but tried to keep on the subject and shook her head while finishing her tea and pushing back her chair.

"Even if that _would_ be true, I'd really just like to get them myself and learn some more in the process."

She got onto her feet while Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked impressed by the tastiness of the orange piece of pie he held in his hand. Hermione moved towards the door, while stepping over a laundry basket in which Ron should've been searching for socks and carefully avoiding stepping on a few dirty ones he'd left next to it. When she safely eluded the obstacles and reached the wooden door, it flew open and revealed a Hermione-sized person, with freckles and ginger hair. The girl was thinner than she was and more angular, but beautiful even so. Her eyes twinkled at the sight of the three in the kitchen and quickly blew a hand kiss in the direction of her black-haired boyfriend.

"Ginny," Hermione exclaimed, "I was just on my way."

"Good, but we're staying downstairs. I want to get out in the sun while we still can," Ginny said, almost singing. She had a tendency to do that.

Harry was already getting to his feet while trying to get the last piece of the pastry down. Meanwhile Ginny took Hermione by the hand and was already near the backdoor. The quickly chewing boy tried to say something, but Ginny interrupted:

"No, we're not going to play Quidditch. I'm not in the mood. Besides, I want some girl time with miss brunette here." Hermione looked at her friend with her brows frown. Yes, they were girls and yes, they sometimes did something which you could call 'girl talk', but they hadn't done that since… well, since Harry, Ron and herself had left everyone behind to search for horcruxes. A pinch of guilt ran through Hermione's stomach as she thought of how they had left everyone behind. She watched as the black haired boy nodded and tried to look indifferent, but she knew him far too well to miss his disappointed look.

Ginny pushed through the door, her wavy red hear looking unearthly bright in the sunlight. Hermione had always been a little jealous of the looks of her friend. Although Ron had clumsily tried to mention a few times that he thought she was pretty, she knew she would never come anything near Ginny Weasley's beauty. As the sun touched her skin as well and seemed to try to warm her up as quickly as possible, she shrugged the thoughts out of her head. It didn't matter. She knew who she was and who she had, and that was enough. Besides, Ginny wasn't a girl to be led by looks and neither was she.

Ginny had let go of her hand and walked towards a piece of a tree trunk, laying on its side, where she sat down promptly. Hermione slowly walked towards her with a curious look on her face, but decided to stand. She had been sitting all day and welcomed the possibility to straighten her legs.

"So?" Ginny asked, watching her friend with glittering eyes, a knowing grin on her face.

"So?" Hermione replied with confusion. She already talked to her about her returning to Hogwarts at the diner table the night she came back to the Burrow, which was two days ago. Her red-haired friend had been genuinely excited, not in the least because she was going back as well.

"Come on, Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed impatiently. "Tell me about you and Ron!"

"Oh!" Her eyebrows shot up. She hadn't expected this, although she could've known Ginny would want some details. She couldn't stop a shy grin creeping onto her face and she shrugged.

"What's there to tell?" She teased a little, although she wasn't sure she was able to talk about… well, that stuff.

"I know you liked him for quite some time, but then the War happened and suddenly you were a couple," her friend explained, still grinning, though it had slighted a little when she mentioned the War.

Hermione fidgeted with her light blue T-shirt while thinking about where to start. There had been so many hints and moments that told how they both felt, but it wasn't until—

"He wanted to save the house-elves during the battle," she blurted. She felt the warmth of her blush creeping up her neck. "We um… we kissed." Her cheeks felt hot now too. She bit her bottom lip while trying to keep herself from smirking too widely.

Ginny giggled at the uncomfortable girl in front of her. Hermione decided to sit down next to her after all, to avoid having to look at her directly. Ginny wasn't going to waive and leaned a little closer, watching her intently.

"And… how was it?" She asked.

Hermione huffed. "You really want to hear about your brother?"

"I'm not the prudish one," she shrugged. "Besides, I'm not connecting your stories to the picture I have of my brother, because it doesn't seem like the same guy when you talk to me about him."

"It was… nice," Hermione said slowly, trying to be frank. "I mean, I don't have much to compare it with. It was just so… heated. You know," she began to stammer, "because of the situation. Well, there was so much going on and the tension between us was as big as it could get and, yeah." She finally looked up to Ginny, whose eyes sparkled with nothing but kindness.

"I get it. Did he ask you to be his girlfriend?"

"He did, although it was rather clumsy." Hermione smiled fondly and looked at her hands again.

Ginny let out a ringing laugh. "Of course! But did you guys do anything more, like," she wiggled her eyebrows, "naughty stuff?"

"No! I mean, yes, we did do something, of course. I guess, but not everything!" Hermione hated how her head felt so hot again. She looked around to check they were still alone. Apart from a few gnomes running around a ridiculously large flower box trying to catch each other, there was no one.

Ginny laughed at her discomfort, while Hermione shifted her weight on the tree they were sitting on. Before Ginny could start asking about details, Hermione tried to wiggle her own eyebrows, in which she failed miserably, and asked:

"What about you and Harry?"

Ginny stopped laughing out loud, but was still grinning. She leaned back and put her hands behind her on the wood. She threw her head back so it could take in as much sunshine as possible, closed her eyes and nodded.

"Well?" Hermione pushed, while feeling the curiosity bubbling in her stomach. She knew Ginny didn't mind talking about this stuff; she had much more experience and Hermione always felt like there was something she could learn, although she'd never admit it.

"We haven't really had the time to go all the way," the red-haired girl said clearly, "but we're getting there. It's really nice. Harry is so sweet."

Hermione nodded slowly in agreement. Her thoughts went back to the night she got back to the Burrow, when she and Ron were taking a walk along the fields surrounding the grounds. Ron had pulled her by her arm into a field of high grain, where they had kissed. Then she had felt Ron's hands on her back and under her shirt. Although it all felt great and she touched his warm skin as well, it was still kind of weird doing that stuff with someone she had known since they were eleven. They hadn't gone any further, so she was a little scared he had felt the same awkwardness.

"Does it feel awkward at all, when you… touch and stuff?" She dared ask, while she looked at Ginny with restraint.

"Hmm," Ginny opened one eye a bit to look at her friend's face, trying to determine the meaning behind the question. "Not really. The only awkward part was the way my brothers felt the need to act protective over their little sister." She crunched her nose and stuck out her tongue in slight annoyance. "Do you mean to say," Ginny sat back up and stretched her arms above her head, "that it doesn't feel natural for you to touch each other?"

"It doesn't," the bushy-haired girl frowned. "Is that bad?"

"I guess not," was the slow reply, "as long as you both want it."

They heard a squeaky door open somewhere to their left and both girls looked up. Mr Weasley stepped out of his shed where he had probably been working on a muggle television his children had given him for his birthday in February. He couldn't stop himself from being in the shed as much as possible since the war was over. When his eyes fell on his daughter and her friend he beamed and started walking towards them.

"Hermione, I was wondering if you could give me a hand with the tellie," he chuckled, "that's what they call it, right?"

Hermione nodded and stood with a small smile. Ginny waved her hand towards the two of them. "I have to search for my boyfriend anyways," she declared.

"You know, I just can't seem to make it switch programs," Mr Weasley stated to Hermione, with only the incredible television on his mind. "I only seem to manage to turn up the volume." Hermione walked with him towards the shed, thinking how she should be switching her programme to one where everything would work itself out, instead of it all being so difficult.


	2. Chapter Two

AN: Hello again!  
Thanks for everyone who added this story into their following and/or favorites-list and the three guest readers who took the time and trouble to write me reviews. That was freakin' awesome, because I am pretty nervous about the story, so thanks a lot! And yes, Grace, I think you are right. I will try to give Hermione some more confidence in other area's.

Anyways, hope this chapter isn't too boring. I had to introduce dear Spencer to you and the context explained. And before you say anything: yes, yes, I know he was born in 1981 and the timelines are all messed up, but I didn't want him to be THAT much older than Hermione ;)  
Hope you enjoy!

With love,  
Cornelia Spring

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Chapter Two

"Seat 27A. That's the 27th row, the seat by the window on the right, sir," the tall flight attendant said with a big smile on her face. "Have a nice flight!"

Spencer Reid pushed his lips together and the corners of his mouth upwards as a sign of gratitude and quickly moved past the neatly dressed lady. Trying to find his chair he clumsily held out his bag too much to the left, while avoiding stepping on some large woman's toes. His brown shoulder bag pulled him back when it became stuck behind the seat he just passed, smothering him in the neck and knocking him off balance. He tried to step back, grabbed the chair next to him and accidentally stood on the woman's toes he had so cautiously tried to avoid. The woman squeaked in pain and annoyance and looked at him with anger. Apologizing over and over again he regained his balance, pulled his bag with him and moved to the 27th row with a face as red as a beetroot. Feeling relieved he didn't have to move passed other people he fell down into his seat and looked through the small window frame.

Spencer had hated public flights ever since he needed to travel more often, but loved it at the same time. It was always terribly crowded and held a thick air, filled with the sickening smell of too many people squeezed together, which could not be blown away by the heavy air conditioning. He normally didn't have to deal with this many people, for the sole reason the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation had spoiled him with their private plane. There was plenty of room for their small group and the seats were fairly comfortable. The backside was that there were always colleagues around to observe him. Although they were his friends, his only friends even, and he appreciated how they looked out for him, he could never not feel uncomfortable when they analysed his behaviour. He knew they couldn't help it and he was as guilty as they were for doing the same, unknowingly of course, sometimes all he wanted was to be left alone for a while. Especially after a particularly nasty case. A public flight therefore wasn't as bad as you would think.

The last two cases hadn't been exactly the worst of what he had seen, but his partners in crime had noticed he was feeling… off. Doubt about if he had made the right decision had entered his head constantly, of which the consequence was that he became quiet. Alert as he and his friends always were, they noticed and asked him questions. He knew he couldn't answer them truthfully, even if he wished to. It just wasn't allowed. The magical world had to be concealed from muggles as much as possible.

Eventually he had come up with a story that wasn't far from the truth. After all that happened in his life in the United States, he had had the feeling to try something new, in an entirely different setting. So, because he had lived there in his years of secondary school, he chose to move to England to teach.

It wasn't all a lie. In fact, working for the BAU was quite intense and Spencer had been through a lot, even if he was but twenty-four years of age. The only thing he didn't mention was that he was asked to come and teach. And that it was a magical school. Oh well… details.

But he never was a good lair, especially to his closest friends. Particularly Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau were onto him, but JJ hadn't pushed it when she noticed he didn't want to elaborate. Morgan, however, didn't give up so easily, making Spencer feel uncomfortable by asking him what the real reasons were for moving away, at times he'd least expected it. As a matter of fact, he'd tried to sit down with 'Pretty Boy', one of his nicknames for their youngest colleague, to acquire an honest and confidential conversation all the time. Spencer was very sensitive for these talks and mostly blurted out what was bothering him, but this time he knew he couldn't. Aaron Hotchner, chief of their unit, eventually told Morgan to leave it alone, which he reluctantly did to Spencer's surprise and relief. Normally Emily Prentiss, their former colleague, would rescue him from such situations in which he wasn't able to tell something in order to keep the magical secret, because she was a witch as well. But she was working for the English Ministry of Magic in London for a while now; although she had told everyone she was working for Interpol. Hotch was a muggle, but he had felt his genius co-worker really didn't want to tell.

While his thoughts ran through all these events, travellers slowly trickled into the airplane and eventually it was ready for take-off. Spencer hadn't been paying attention to the flight attendants explaining the safety instructions, so he startled when the one who had welcomed him into the plane loudly asked him to buckle up his seatbelt with a small smile on her face, although he felt she wasn't as welcoming anymore. He quickly did as she asked, but didn't remove his bag off of his lap. He really didn't want to put it on the floor, for there would be hundreds of bacteria on it from all the people who had been seated in his chair. He recently read an article on how bacteria could linger for days or, in case of some particularly unpleasant ones, even a week in airplanes, but he tried not to think about it too much. Never forgetting anything he read wasn't always an advantage.

As the stewardesses buckled up themselves, Spencer took hold of his armrests tightly. After he had left Quantico, where he lived, he had spent some time with his mother in Las Vegas before he went off to the other side of the world. She was terribly scared of flying and always made him a tad nervous when he was going to, even when he was used to travelling through the sky. That's why he'd always choose to be seated near a window: to always have a good overview of what was going on. His mother had taught him that, along with many other things.

Even though he didn't see her as often as he wanted since he'd started working for the BAU and their relationship had therefore been on edge for several times in the passed few years, she was the person he was going to miss the most. Because of all what he had seen of the world, he could understand her better and respected her even more than he already did. She was a huge part of his life, really. He always found a way back to her; especially when his friends weren't as supportive as they would like to be. They tried their hardest, of course, but his mother understood. Every time.

Slowly the feeling of sitting in a rollercoaster, rising to its highest point while being pushed back into his seat, but with much more noise, died away and the airplane was flying in a straight line. He unfastened his seatbelt and made himself as comfortable as possible, trying very hard not to touch the skinny man's leg who had his brows frown, as he had from the start. Spencer took out his headphones from the back of the chair in front of him and began to look for the Russian movie he was dying to finally watch in the small screen before him. His adventure had begun and he was going to try to enjoy it as much as possible. Even if he was scared stiff by just thinking about it.


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: Hi there! I'm sorry it took me a while, but I've been really busy with school and trips and... aaah, so much. On top of all that I'm a really slow writer. It is therefore very probable it will happen again. Sorry! I'll try to have something up again next week. You know what would definitely help? Reviews ;)  
Hope you're still enjoying it! **

**With love,**  
 **Cornelia Spring**

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Chapter Three

Hermione crunched her nose in slight disgust while she watched Ron devour a particularly greasy piece of chicken. They were sitting next to each other, as it was the last night before she was going back to Hogwarts. After such a moving year in which they had spend so much time together, it felt weird to have to say goodbye to her best friends for a while. Of course she would still see them in the holidays, but they wouldn't be in each other's company every single minute anymore. She would miss them. Even their eating habits.

"What's'a matta'?" Ron asked with his mouth now full with mashed potatoes. He looked at her with his blue eyes focussed on her brown ones. She had always loved those eyes. They were one shade of blue; bright and steady, just like himself. Hermione had always believed the eyes to tell more about people than words could ever do.

"Nothing," she answered with a small smile, returning to her own plate, but secretly not being hungry. A balloon of fondness bubbled up in her chest and took on quite a size then. She looked around the long wooden table, which was bending slightly by the weight of the feast. They were sitting in the garden, a large white party tent protecting them from the setting sun and potential rain. The setting was beautiful, especially with the blossoming flowers and bushes around them, giving the tent a gloss of all the different colours. Next to Ron sat Mrs Weasley, who was summing up things on her fingers Ginny should have packed for tomorrow. The youngest Weasley caught Hermione's eye, rolled her own and then continued to look at her mother from across the table. Ginny satisfied her with a look of interest on her face, resting her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. Next to her sat Harry, holding little Teddy Lupin awkwardly under the armpits on his lap. The child squealed happily and waved his arms trying to grab Harry's glasses. Left to Harry was Andromeda Tonks, laughing as Teddy's hair changed into several bright colours as he was having such fun teasing his godfather.

Mr Weasley sat beside her and was having a quiet conversation with Bill, Charlie, George and Percy, who sat next to Hermione, about the last reparations of Hogwarts, which were done last week.

George looked fairly well tonight, although the bags under his eyes couldn't hide the sleepless nights. He'd been in shock for a while after the war ended and funerals were held every other day, but after that faded he'd gone through guilt and anger. Now he just seemed lifeless during the day while his heartbroken wailings could sometimes be heard at night. The presence of Bill and Charlie was something George seemed to seek up, so Hermione thought he looked kind of peaceful right then. At least, more peaceful than he had been since his twin brother had died.

The Weasley family had been suffering terribly under the loss of their son and brother. The victory of the war had brought on relief and some kind of joy, but the dead were a daily reminder of what it had cost them. Almost every family in wizard England, and a lot of muggle families as well, was mourning over loved ones. Mrs Weasley would randomly burst out in tears when stumbling upon something reminding her of Fred, which was a lot. Mr Weasley, Bill and Charlie had turned solemner in their doing, which mostly meant working hard and long to get the magical world to stand on its own again. Percy blamed himself and seemed more quiet and humbled than ever before. Ginny tried to distract herself as much as possible, but the private moments of staring blankly out of a window while a lonely tear drifted off towards the end of her cheek didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. Ron just didn't know what to do with all his emotions and was therefore angry most of the time. He'd smash pots and vases around the garden until he broke into tears as his knees touched the ground and Hermione hastened to take his head into her hands and stroke his hair calmly, whispering comforting words softly into his ears, hoping he would hear some of them through his loud snivelling.

But tonight was not a night to be especially sad. It was a night to say goodbye for a while, because it was safe enough to go to school again. They had never thought being able to go to the place of their education to be of such a joy. It had always been nice, of course, but this time it also meant a new start for their world. For everyone to be free again.

So Hermione laughed and talked and smiled with content while listening to the others. After dessert they all felt warm and sleepy. The sun was nowhere to be seen and had made room for a half moon by then. There were no clouds at all and so the moonlight shone upon their tent, but the people were mostly lit by small candles spread out through the grass, charmed by Mr Weasley as to not set fire to it. Charlie stood up with his mug of butterbeer in his hand.

"I just wanted to make a toast to… well, all of you, really," he smiled fondly at his family. "We're sorry Fleur couldn't be here with us, because she wanted to be in 'La France'," he failed to mimic a French accent while glancing at Bill, "but she's with us in our hearts and thoughts." He sighed. "Just like Fred."

Everyone looked at George, whose face was already wet with tears.

"And Ted, Tonks and Remus." Now some turned their eyes upwards, while some gave Andromeda a quick look, as she was the one closest to them. She looked sad, but also determined as she stroke Teddy's hair while he slept in her arms.

Charlie took turns looking at Ginny and Hermione, the only ones going back to Hogwarts.

"Let's… make it all count." His voice quivered and he sat down.

A deep silence fell over the company. The only sound came from the croaking frogs in the ponds behind the cornfields. Hermione felt a lump in her throat. It was sadness for loosing so many people. It was gratitude for being allowed to go back. It was melancholic for going back without the friends she had never done much without. For starting afresh. Alone.

They sat there together for a while; some softly letting the tears fall, some just staring into nowhere. Then George wiped his wet face, stood up and took something from under his chair. He took a few steps away from the tent and placed them in the grass. He took out his wand from his pants, tapped the fireworks and stepped back again, never taking his eyes off. "For you, Freddie," he whispered.

Everyone else went to stand next to George while the first arrows shot into the air. The air was then filled with bangs, smoke and lots of beautiful shapes and colours. The small crowd ooh'd and aah'd; not forgetting about their mourning, but acknowledging it altogether. The pain didn't stop, but it got just a tad easier.

Hermione watched the explosions in the air when she felt a hand grabbing hers. She looked at her right and saw Ron next to her with a small grin on his face. He leaned in and whispered into her ear.

"Want to watch this from a small distance?"

She nodded and let him lead them away from the others further into the Weasley garden.

* * *

Hermione laughed as Ron swatted anywhere on his legs, trying to kill that mosquito that had the guts to sting him. She saw it flying away from all the fuss Ron made, so she took his hands and placed them gently in hers. They had found themselves a quiet piece of dry grass; not far from the others, but far enough to be alone.

She smiled at him with the lights of the fireworks in her eyes, seeing his blush starting at his ears and spreading onto his face.

"I'm going to miss you," Hermione confessed, her beam slightly fading.

"You don't have to go." Ron sat up, pulled his hands from hers and placed them over hers instead. He looked excited. "You can stay here!"

Hermione felt like… well, she didn't really know what it was. It didn't make her particularly sad or angry, but she didn't like that that was the only thing he'd say to her when she was going away tomorrow.

"We've been over this," she sighed. "I _want_ to go, I want to finish my education and figure out what I can do for the world. You could at least, just, support my decision."

She pulled her hands away from him and folded her arms. He looked confused.

"But there's really nothing you don't already know." He sounded a bit frustrated. He looked like it too, rolling his eyes and pursing his lips.

Hermione grunted. "It's not only about knowledge, Ron! Although I think there's always something to learn, it's also about maturation. That's important! Maybe you should try it some time."

She stood up, putting her hands on her hips. Ron narrowed his eyes as he stood up himself.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve this now," he raised his voice. "I tell you that I want you here, to stay with _me_ , because I know I'd miss you! How's that offending?!"

"You seem to _disapprove_ of my choice, but that's exactly what it should be: MY choice!"

"Well, fine! GO then! Apparently you don't need _me_ or my _approval_!"

"I… I, yes, I…" Hermione began stuttering as her hands began to shake a little in emotion. "I WILL go! And you're right! I don't _need_ your approval!" She pointed an accusing finger at him before turning around and storming off.

She couldn't think clearly and noticed just in time that she had marched back to the party tent, where there were still a few people chatting. She quickly turned on her heels and headed the other way.

How dare he? Hermione thought angrily. Why couldn't he just say that he'd miss her too and then have a nice last evening together?! Why was he always so damn difficult?

She slowed her pace as she neared Mr Weasley's shed. It was very dark out here, so she shouldn't be wandering off too far. She walked towards it and sat on the wooden bench next to the door.

Maybe she shouldn't've taken it so seriously, but she just felt… disappointed. That was it. Why couldn't he acknowledge the fact that they couldn't always do everything together? He clearly didn't feel the need to go back to Hogwarts, but she did. She'd never cared much about other people's opinions, so why should she now?

She knew immediately the answer to that. He was her boyfriend. She liked him very much and did care for his opinion. On top of that, she felt a little nervous herself for going her own way for the first time in years. That's why she had reacted instantly to his judgement. She hadn't been completely fair to him, she admitted to herself, but it was how she felt. And he should know that.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was late. He'd probably gone up to bed by now and she felt exhausted herself. All in all, it had been an intense evening.

Hermione stood up and started walking towards the house. She'd apologize to Ron in the morning.


	4. Chapter Four

**AN: Sorry for the long wait! But here it is; hope you enjoy!**  
 **Thanks for those of you who wrote me reviews. Please know that I read them and take them into consideration, even when I don't use them instantly. I keep them in mind while writing.**

 **With love,**  
 **Cornelia Spring**

* * *

Chapter Four

Spencer felt the nerves fluttering as butterflies in his stomach as he looked at a book without actually seeing it. He'd seen a few young wizards and witches pushing trolleys full of schoolstuff, chatting excitedly to their siblings and parents. They were heading for the platform, of course, just as he was, but he'd suddenly felt the need to go into hiding and this little bookstore here at King's Cross station seemed like a safe haven. He told himself he was spending his last muggle cash so it wouldn't be lingering around and wouldn't mingle with the coins he would be using more from now on. Although it was something Spencer would do and spending it on books also wasn't something he was unaccustomed to, the sole reason was to take a deep breath before throwing himself into the deep. At least, that's what it felt like. He didn't know exactly why. Figuring out his feelings and the reasons behind them was definitely not his expertise. A lot was, but not that. Most of the time he would just let it pass before he could think about it too much. Sometimes a friend would notice his behaviour and help him sort it out. He would have to do that on his own now.

He laid the book onto the pile again as he realised he'd read it already last month. Maybe some informative books about the scenery in Scotland would ease the feeling of having insects on the inside of his belly.

Eventually he ended up with eight books, some about Scotland and some poetry and fiction. Just to have something at hand for his journey to the north. The shopkeeper eyed him with impatience as he tried to reach the last pound in his wallet, but he accidentally pushed too hard and out of his hands, dropping it onto the floor, throwing around every coin in it.

"Whoops, sorry," he mumbled while lowering to the floor to keep all the money from going everywhere and to keep the wizard money from being seen too much. When he reached up again with red cheeks he tried to stuff all his newly bought goods in his shoulder bag, but they wouldn't fit. He looked up to see the man behind the counter sighing with his arms crossed. Spencer looked around and found there were two people waiting in line, looking bored and impatient as well. He just grabbed all the books and hold them in his right arm, mumbling his apologies again before quickly exiting the shop, pulling his suitcase after him.

 _Bad idea, Spence. How is it possible you achieve to make a mess and piss people off everywhere you go?_ He thought to himself. Spencer Reid didn't mind being different, he had known all along that he was, but being noticed because of that had never become easy. His mom always told him that he was special, of course, and when he was younger it was what had kept him going, but when he got older… he noticed the glances people took at him more. Why would this super smart guy, who knew almost everything, be so freaking clumsy? Doesn't he know how to deal with this or that? Clearly, being a genius isn't everything.

He shook his head. Those were the things his mind always came up with after such a thing happened. Not that people hadn't said it to him, in fact, they had a lot. But you shouldn't let that get you down. You don't even know for sure people are thinking that. Don't go putting those thoughts into their minds without convincing evidence that they actually have them. The only thing you'll accomplish is torturing yourself and taking away people's free will. Well, in your mind only then. A lesson he'd learned from JJ, actually an expert on people's feelings. He still didn't know what he did to deserve her friendship, but he cherished it every day. He had a small crush on her when he first got to work with the BAU, but it had turned out to be nothing more than friendship. Spencer was fine with that. He loved her, but only as a close friend now. Almost as the big sister he never had.

He had reached the stone pillar with the barrier dividing platforms nine and ten. He looked around and waited for a young couple to pass him. When their backs was all he could see he tried to take a casual stand against the barrier, stumbling into the world which took up half of his life but which he had ignored for a while. He took a moment to watch the steam escaping the darkness of the smoke stack, making small grey clouds in the air, getting higher and higher. His insides jumped in excitement now. He was really going back.

He pulled his suitcase with him as he started towards the end of the train. A conductor helped him up the steps, into a compartment and put his belongings into the rack. It was still early and not very crowded yet, which Spencer was glad of. He liked to have some space and was therefore always on time for something such as this. He took a seat near the window, enjoying for a while watching platform 9 3/4 harbouring more and more children with relatives. There weren't as many students as there had been when he was one himself, but here were still a lot. He smiled when he watched a couple of eleven year olds talking animatedly to each other, making large hand gestures, while their parents watched them from the corners of their eyes, knowing they were up to something. His smile faded when he noticed a mother hugging her son in silence, tears slowly dripping from her eyes. The son couldn't be much older than fourteen or fifteen, but he was returning the hug quite firmly. It gave Spencer a sad feeling. Not that the boy couldn't be hugging his mother goodbye this way and that she wouldn't let a tear fall because of it, but the sight just screamed the loss of a family member. It was the reality this world had to deal with now.

He couldn't bear to look at it any longer and turned his eyes to his hands. Guilt flowed in waves over him, like the sea on the beach. He hadn't been there.

He hadn't been here when they had needed him; when they could have used him, as they needed every possible person on their side. Not that anybody had pointed this out to him, had accused him of forgetting them, leaving them be while they needed every help they could get. But he felt it, deep in his person. Guilt is a powerful thing. It has the tendency to swallow you. That's what Spencer felt like at that moment. If he were just ten years younger, it could have been him or someone he knew to hug his mother like that. Saying goodbye to a parent who needed him. Having to take care of himself, emotionally broken or no.

But he didn't go. Instead, he stayed where he was, safe in America. Fighting the evils he deemed bigger than the one in England at the time. Why? What had made him think it wasn't as serious as it definitely had been? He was supposed to detect evil. It was even his fucking job!

When it turned out to be this bad in England and the rest of the wizard population slowly seemed to realise this too, it had haunted Spencer's mind. He had had dreams about the terrible deaths of people, the angst of being a muggleborn in a country where there was no tolerance, the fear to stand up for what was right and seeing people you know choose the wrong side because of dreading their fates.

He stretched his fingers when he realised his knuckles turned white as he clenched them. This terrible feeling of guilt which he couldn't fight within himself was part of the reason why he was going back. Helping the people he neglected in time of need. His people. His job.

He jumped in surprise when his compartment door opened and two male students appeared. They were discussing something fiercely - Spencer thought he heard one of them mentioning a specific kind of broomstick - as they stepped into the almost empty space, but they stopped abruptly as they noticed him. He smiled faintly at them. They had interrupted his dark thoughts and therefore was in no mood to be social, but one thing that came with the guilt was the determination to do the right thing now. A good teacher would try to make his pupils comfortable, even if they didn't know who he was at that point.

"Oops, sorry," said the tallest of them - Spencer thought he was a second or third year -, "are these seats taken?"

"No," Spencer sounded hoarse and cleared his throat. "Sorry. No. You can sit here if you like."

"Thanks."

They sat down at the other end of the compartment, slowly continuing their conversation. It was indeed about Quidditch. Spencer sighed. He'd never liked the sport. Despite his knowing all the rules, of course, he wasn't athletic at all. So he looked out of the window again.

There weren't many children left on the platform, as it was close to eleven now. He watched the long clock hand of the large clock move closer to the XII. He loved Roman numerals. They are never what they seem to be - letters, but for counting; numbers, but not used in maths. They are paradoxes. Like a good poem.

The last daring persons hopped onto the train, as it slowly began to move. More and more clouds of steam were drifting along the small window frames as the steam engine started moving with a small jolt. People waved, laughed and cried; some called a few last words to their family. Spencer smiled again despite himself. Even though his mother wouldn't see him off this time, there were a lot of children being waved at. They were having that particular feeling of going to this magical place again. Of going to their second home. And he was as well.

* * *

Spencer had just finished his third book when he felt the eyes of one of the boys he shared a compartment with on him. He looked up and the boy instantly glanced away, trying to look innocent. Spencer returned his gaze upon his book, even though there was no more to be read. Was it because of his reading speed or because he looked too old to be on the train with them? Not every teacher chose to travel to Hogwarts by train; they were entitled to get there whichever way they wanted, so they mostly didn't feel the need to waste all that time. But he felt he needed to do it the right way and this way he had some time to get used to being among magical people again. Besides, he had secretly wanted to postpone his first encounter with his old teachers. It would be weird for him to be a colleague to them. Not that he never had the same feeling before, but with everything combined… it was a good place to start.

He closed the book and laid it on the pile on the seat next to him. Picking up his shoulder bag - he took it with him everywhere he went - he shuffled slowly out of the compartment, giving the boys a small nod. It would probably look weird if he finished his eight books before it was even dark, so he had decided to take a stroll in the train. There was a possibility of another professor settled somewhere in the front and a talk with the driver was never a bad idea.

He moved along the compartments, catching glimpses of students talking, laughing, playing games and trying some magic with each other. He passed the trolley lady who offered him a warm smile and a chocolate frog for free. Apparently she knew he was teaching this year. Then again, she had always been fond of him, as he was sort of an outcast but had manners, unlike many of his fellow students.

Putting his new Harry Potter-card in his bag - he'd read it in three seconds - and quickly biting of the head of the frog before it could get away, he reached the end. He had not seen another teacher, not even Horace Slughorn, who had always been inclined to kick the new year off with his small group of particular interesting pupils. He probably thought it best to see who was even coming this year before making favourites.

After some smalltalk with the driver, who celebrated the start of another normal year with colourful decorations in his cockpit, he decided to head back to his seat. The corridors were getting more crowded now the sun had started to set and they were getting closer and closer to Hogwarts. Chattering sounded from the groups of people standing in the hallways or sitting in their compartments with their doors open.

Spencer felt somewhat in a hurry as he wanted to watch the sunset from his own window. As he passed some giggling fourth year girls who were bowing over some box in which something plopped every five seconds, spreading a puff of pink glitter in the air, hovering above their heads for a moment or two, he was distracted and accidentally ran into another person. He extended his hands and grabbed the person's arms as to make sure they both didn't take a fall. The quick reflex amazed even himself and he looked down into a female face surrounded by a big bush of brown hair.

His heart stopped.

The hair, small posture, big round eyes with the colour of chocolate, filled with surprise as well, looking up at him as she was standing a head shorter than he did. He recognised her immediately from the papers, even though the pictures had been in black and white.

He had ran into none other than Hermione Granger.


	5. Chapter Five

**AN: Hello again! So sorry for the long wait, I hope I haven't lost all of you. I've done a lot of thinking about this story and I have a much more detailed idea of what I want to do with it now. Hope you like it. Let me know!**

 **With love,  
** **Cornelia Spring**

* * *

Chapter Five

Hermione frowned a little as the young brown-haired man with a casual-yet-formal-outfit who'd just bumped into her kept hold of her elbows and still stared at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry," she started, returning his gaze as she tried to move a little backwards and out of his hands.

That seemed to slip him out of his trance and he quickly removed his hands. He moved them as though to wipe them on his trousers, but seemed to think the better of it.

"No, no, that's alright," the man stammered, "I mean, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention."

He just looked at her then, with a curious, yet somehow slightly pained expression. He was actually blocking her path and inclined to keep standing there. It occurred to her how his half long hair had the tendency to curl a little just below his ear. She hadn't always liked long hair on boys, though some seemed to be designed for it. It appeared he was one of them.

"Excuse me for asking," Hermione said while shifting her balance on her other leg, "but are you a new professor?"

The man looked older than anyone in her year, she'd guess somewhere in his 20's. She'd never seen him before and it was obvious there would have to be new teachers this year.

A smile appeared on his face as quickly as it was gone again.

"I am," he told her, while quickly shifting his eyes to his right, where he could see a few Ravenclaws chatting intensely. The door of the compartment muffled their voices. He looked back at her.

She felt a flicker of excitement over the start of a new school year, as it had always given her pleasure to go back and return to such a special, magical place to learn as much as she could on the wizarding world. She was wondering what he would be teaching, but he didn't seem to want to elaborate.

"May I ask what subject you'll be giving?" She pushed gently.

"Yes, of course you may ask," he answered in a slight American accent, talking quite fast. "I will be giving Ancient Runes and Muggle Studies. Do you… are you taking those classes? You're in seventh year now, I suppose?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, but they moved into a small frown quickly after. Of course people would know her, as one of Harry Potter's best friends and with her own media-personality after the war. _It was weird though_ , Hermione thought to herself. She'd half expected everything would return to normal once everyone went their way again.

"Yes," she answered, "and I'm taking Ancient Runes. I dropped Muggle Studies after third year, as it just wasn't possible to schedule every possible class."

The man nodded in agreement. He seemed nervous to continue, with his eyes flicking anywhere but never quite fixing on something. He seemed pretty uncertain and nervous for a professor. Hermione hoped it wouldn't affect his teaching too much.

"I was just on my way to the front of the train to check on some of the prefects," she said, giving him a small smile. "So, I'll see you at Hogwarts then, professor."

She nodded at him as a final goodbye and moved sideways along the compartment containing the Ravenclaws now having somewhat of a quarrel. The professor quickly shuffled aside for her to pass and Hermione could make her way to the prefects' compartment.

Headmistress McGonagall had appointed her Head Girl. She hadn't actually been happy with it at first, because she really wanted to focus on studying this year; partly because this was her NEWTs year, and partly because she had missed so much in the year she'd spent looking for horcruxes and fighting Voldemort. She just really wanted to get good grades and figure out what she wanted to do to help the wizarding world get back to its feet as best as she possibly could. But now she mostly felt flattered she had been chosen. This was her chance to support the Hogwarts' professors in some of their responsibilities and make sure the students are safe and happy. That's why she wore her red and shiny Head Girl-badge proudly.

Hermione had mentioned it to Harry and Ron. Her best friend had hardly had any time to congratulate her, when her boyfriend had almost exploded because he had just read in the Daily Prophet that the Chudley Cannons were loosing some of their best players (which already weren't many) due to arrests on suspicion of helping Death Eaters. And that was that. She had put away her badge until she got into the train, in fear of upsetting George by reminding him of Percy's and the fun he and Fred had had mocking it.

She'd been patrolling the final two cars of the train when Anthony Goldstein had come to replace her just now. The blonde-haired Ravenclaw was chosen Head Boy, so they would probably be spending quite some time together. Luckily she liked Anthony; he had been in their year as well and came back to finish his NEWTs. She knew him to be loyal, kind quite smart. He had been part of Dumbledore's Army and had stayed at Hogwarts to fight in the battle. Hermione was glad it was him, and someone she knew. It could have been Zacharias Smith, who she found out was also returning to Hogwarts this year. An angry shudder crept over her back. That git had tried to escape from the upcoming battle as soon as he could, pushing aside small first years in his way. They were all given the choice and that was perfectly fine; but he'd never thought about anyone but himself.

Hermione reached the empty prefects compartment and went inside. She and Anthony had decided one of them would always be available in here if one of the prefects had a problem or needed assistance. They had sent them on their way in pairs, as this was their first assignment. She had already made a schedule for some of the prefects to lead the first years to their dormitories and some to patrol the corridors tonight. They would meet again tomorrow evening. It all seemed under control.

She sat down near the window and put her schoolbag next to her on the red cushions. She searched for _Advanced Rune Translation_ by Yuri Blishen, taking the book out and opening it on her lap. A contented sigh escaped her, for what is better than to be on your way to one of your favourite places with an interesting book? The talk with the new professor in the hallway had made her excited to get back to it. She had already read it, of course, but it wouldn't hurt to refresh her memory. Besides, it was just some relaxing before the prefects arrived back and she would need to inform them what needed to be done next.

* * *

Hermione clapped politely as McGonagall finished her start-of-the-year-speech after the delicious feast, stealing a look at the seat next to her where Ginny was sitting, who was looking the now empty table. McGonagall had been almost brutally honest about the losses they had had in the last few years and how it would be difficult to return to normal. She had then softened her voice and looked over her square spectacles at the students, and offered a small smile along with some encouragements in light of the late victory and peace. Eventually it had been a good talk, filled with subjects that needed mentioning, but it had once again brought to mind what they've all been through. For a moment Hermione felt a longing to get on with everything and the world to move on, because she felt tiresome of the grief.

She felt immediate regret.

How could she even want to ask that of people? It wasn't that she hadn't lost people she knew, and missed them wholeheartedly, but she didn't want to feel sad anymore. She thought of Tonks, who had become a dear friend over the years, while they had had such different characters. Perhaps that was one of the reasons. Tonks would never have wanted her family and friends to linger on their negative emotions. Let alone someone like Fred. It just needed time.

Hermione hastily made her thoughts settle the case as she stood up from the table along with the rest of the Gryffindors: she would not try to haste herself and others into letting go of their melancholic feelings, but would try her very best to help them move on without forgetting. They hadn't fought and died in vain.

She suddenly found herself in a tight hug with the youngest Weasley. She'd been so lost in thoughts that she missed the small trickle of tears down the cheeks of her normally so strong friend. When Ginny pulled away, she saw not only a little sadness in her brown eyes, but also hope and something she instinctively felt was gratefulness. She forced a small smile, which seemed to satisfy her friend, but flashed down her eyes the moment Ginny turned away to follow Neville towards the exit of the Great Hall. Now guilt flowed over her once again, stabbing her in her gut. Everyone had been so _grateful_ towards Harry, Ron and herself. They were looked up to as heroes, but, while she had been proud of her friends and all they had accomplished together, she felt uncomfortable. Yes, she believed they felt they had done all they could at the time. And no, no one blamed them for any of the casualties or damage the war had caused, Hermione felt she could have done more. If she had only…

Once more her thoughts were disturbed by a friend, now calling from the Ravenclaw table. Other Ravenclaws shook their heads with slight smiles, while first years tried not to look with too round eyes but apparently couldn't help themselves, when brushing past Luna Lovegood. She wore some kind of… device, which seemed to be stapled on her… hat. Hermione couldn't make more of it than that. It seemed mostly made out of slim, square mirrors, hold up by small metal holders, facing every way possible. The instrument moved constantly and one holder extended its arm so suddenly to the left, it punched a fourth year Hufflepuff on the back of his head, who indignantly looked back at Luna, who of course didn't notice. Hermione smiled sincerely and waved at her. At least someone was making the most of what should be a happy start of the school year.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Luna, alright?" The Gryffindor called out and she gestured at the crowd around them. Luna nodded and waved back smiling. _I'll find out what that thing was in the morning_ , Hermione thought to herself, a slight smile still on her face.

She tried to move along with the rest of the students to get to the side of the entrance of the Hall, where she was to meet with the prefects who were scheduled to walk the corridors this evening. Someone brusquely walked past her, bashing into her shoulder causing her to lose her balance, and she could only keep herself from falling by quickly placing her hands on the long table. Pushing herself up and looking around her to search for the clumsy person with a stern frown on her face, she could just make out a medium tall figure quickly making his or her way towards the exit. He or she had pulled up the hood of their cloak so she couldn't see hair or house colour. Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff prefect from her own year who saw it happen, had rushed to her and asked her if she was alright.

"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," Hermione mumbled as she rubbed her hands against one another, which were slightly tingling from the unexpected half-fall.

"I couldn't make out who it was," the other witch told her.

"That's okay, it was just an accident." She gave the friendly Hufflepuff a quick smile. "Shall we go?"

She walked over to the others as she put on a matter-of-fact-face and instructed the prefects what to do.

After her duties Hermione went up to the Gryffindor Tower, climbed in after saying the password ("Repulsae Nescia!")* and found the common room already empty as it was quite late. She went straight to her dormitory, which she shared with Ginny and others from a year below her, as she was the only girl of her own Gryffindor classmates to return this year. She had to remind herself that she was in the same class as her new roommates and they were not from a lower year now, just a year younger.

The others were already asleep. Her eyes felt heavy as she silently took off her cloak and laid it on her trunk in front of her bed. A small rustling sound distracted her from her task to undress when the cloak hit the catch of the trunk. _She hadn't forgotten anything, had she?_ Hermione thought as she reached into one of the pockets in search of her list. She constantly made To Do-lists for herself to help keep her mind at rest, but she mostly got rid of them after she'd finished everything on it. She thought she had done that just before the train arrived, but with her new responsibilities needing attention she might have just put it back in her cloak again.

The piece of parchment that came out of her garment was too small to be a list. She opened it and tried to read it, but it was too dark. She grabbed her wand from the back pocket of her trousers and quietly whispered: "Lumos." She moved her wand against the paper and brought it closer to her eyes. It was written in red ink and a perfectly neat handwriting.

You don't belong here, mudblood.

* * *

* _Repulsae Nescia_ means "ignorant of defeat".


	6. Chapter Six

**AN: Sorry for the delay (again)! I've probably lost you by now, but I hope someone's still reading this. As was asked, here I hope to give a little more background information on Spencer.  
Please review and let me know what you think! It will be highly appreciated.**

 **With love,  
Cornelia Spring**

* * *

Chapter Six

Still feeling a little self-conscious Spencer remained seated while the rest of the professors got up and started talking to each other. He let out a sigh and felt a grin creeping onto his face. As he looked up and watched thousands of candles floating in the air, the heavy sounds of students chattering and leaving for bed rose to a peak. Even when he wasn't one of them this time, he felt that special kind of warmth growing in his chest, caused by the distinct magical feeling that Hogwarts possesses. He turned around in his seat when he heard a familiar voice call him. It was Hagrid, standing at the other side of the High Table, waving at him. Spencer quickly stood from his seat and walked over to greet his old friend.

"Hello, Spencer. Good ter see yeh again! Wha've yeh bin up to?"

"Hi Hagrid! Oh, you know, the usual. Trying to catch some crooks and make sure they won't be leaving jail for a while," he answered with a grin. "It's good to be back. How have you been?"

"Good, good. Helpin' build up Hogwarts as much as I could," he told the younger wizard as his chest raised in pride. "Preparin' some new stuff fer classes. But hey, I've gotta go now. Should take a look if the boats are bein' taken care o'. Last two years they forgot and it was a mess. Yeh're always welcome fer a cup o' tea or somethin', okay?! See yeh soon, Spencer!"

Hagrid gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder as a goodbye, which made his knees almost come through. He'd forgotten how he should always stand steadily on his feet and brace himself at greetings and goodbyes when around Hagrid. The grin hadn't left his face though, watching Hagrid shuffle away.

He'd remained in touch with the groundkeeper when he graduated and made his way into the world. Hagrid had always been a good friend to him, not caring if he was a little bookish and weird. When he was teased again or pushed around by some mean older students, Hagrid had always had his back. He had stood up for him when he could and comforted him when he needed it. It had developed into a real and equal friendship. Although Spencer hadn't always found the time to owl him, it hadn't diluted like with many of his classmates.

He nodded at some of his colleagues who were moving down the High Table to withdraw to their quarters for the night. Horace Slughorn suddenly seemed to get out of nowhere with raised arms, beaming widely.

"Spencer Reid, my boy," he bellowed, grabbing him by the upper arms and squeezing them quite tight considering his age and, well, posture. "Good to have you back, very good. Couldn't resist the academic world, eh?!"

"No," Spencer answered, a slight blush creeping up his neck. Slughorn didn't need any encouraging.

"Why don't you stop by my office this week, so we can catch up!"

Spencer nodded instantly, knowing very well he couldn't avoid it if he wanted to.

"Splendid! I'll see you soon, then!" Slughorn winked at the younger wizard before letting him go and stepping around him.

Spencer had always had a love/hate relationship with Potions. The theory was really interesting and his papers were always graded highly, he also really enjoyed writing them. Making the potions hadn't gone nearly as well. Eventually he had learned some proper brewing, but it would never be what he did best. Same went for cooking, although he couldn't care less about the theory behind that. He was lucky he wouldn't have to make diner for himself for a year.

Well, lucky not to waste money on take-out was more like it.

Spencer turned around as well, suddenly feeling exhausted and hoping he could now retreat to his quarters. He hadn't seen them yet, but he knew where he would have to go. He nodded politely at some other professors who were still chatting quietly to each other. He finally made it to the other end of the High Table without having to engage extensively in other conversations and stepped through the door leading to a room filled with portraits. Some painted figures were already asleep and some were quietly busy with pets, wands or neighbours. He walked across the room and entered the colder corridor leading to the main staircase. His office was to be on the sixth floor, next to classroom 6A, mostly used for Ancient Runes. He'd had the choice between that one and the office of Muggle Studies, which was on the first floor. Spencer was now making his way up to the sixth mostly because Ancient Runes interested him far more. He'd only taken on Muggle Studies because they had been desperately in need of a professor for the subject, after the former real teacher had been, well, murdered by Voldemort. That was not counting Alecto Carrow. Apparently it wasn't such a popular job anymore.

It wouldn't be a difficult task for Spencer, teaching about muggles. He'd lived in their midst and worked with them for years. It also gave him special knowledge about police work and other dealings with the criminal world. As he approached the fourth floor, passing some older students who were still chatting on the stairs, he thought of his idea to work on a paper about the specific crime control of the BAU and the possibilities for it to influence in the magical world. After his meeting with Hermione Granger on the train he had returned to his compartment and when his devouring of books might have seemed to get out of hand to the two boys who had been there too, he had chosen to just watch the scenery fly past for a while. There was also an interesting ancient text that had caught his attention, for research on runes. Ever since the article in The Quibbler about reading runes upside down a few years back, he'd been catching signs that there was in fact something going on with upside-down runes. Not revealing a spell to turn your enemy's ears into a certain citrus fruit, though. *****

Deep in thought he'd reached the door to his office. Pulling quite a large key out of the same pocket of his robes where he kept his wand, he put it in the lock and turned. The wooden worn door opened and revealed the relative small classroom, filled with dusted tables, a teachers' desk and a seemingly forlorn blackboard against the opposite wall of the door. Next to the desk there was another door, which would lead him to his quarters.

Spencer slowly walked towards it after locking the one through where he had entered, sliding the tops of his fingers over some of the tables, collecting dust. When he got to the door, he laid his hand on the knob and said quietly: "Aperire ianua". *****

The knob turned into a handle and Spencer could walk through. He made a mental note to change the password in the morning, as it was rather an easy one. He walked into his chambers, taking them in. It wasn't very large, but it hold enough space for his needs. Spencer never liked big houses or apartments anyway. There was a comfortable sofa in the small living area before him, a small wooden side table in front of it. There was also a desk, on the wall next to the door to, he found out as he opened it, a bedroom with a double bed, freshly made, his trunk next to it in front of a large window. Turning around again, the rest of the apartment also contained a small bathroom, kitchenette and a fireplace with a nice plush carpet before it, covered by moving shadows of the fire. Everything he needed was there.

Spencer felt warmth flowing over him, due to the flames warming up his quarters. It seemed to be more about happiness to be home, though. This feeling was like a light switch, turning on and off again, since he had gotten on the Hogwarts Express.

Shrugging off his robes, leaving it on the rather stately chair behind his desk, he moved towards the kitchenette. He turned on the stove and put a kettle on it to make himself some tea before he would go to bed. Opening a few cupboard doors, he found a large mug and a selection of tea flavours. As the kettle was starting to heat, he placed his hands on both sides of the kitchenette, leaned his weight onto them and threw his head back to crack his neck.

He felt both safe and melancholy. His mother would be alone in her small room right now, already dressed for bed but with a last cup of tea or hot chocolate in her right hand, almost forgotten as she was most likely reading poems by Edgar Allan Poe, her favourite. She would seem lost in her own world when one of the nurses would come to tell her it was almost eleven o'clock and she should be in bed in a few minutes if she wanted to get enough sleep. His mother would always wake at six in the morning, no matter how late it had gotten in the evening. She would think about her only son and write a letter that would not be sent until he had written her again. Then she would go to bed and either fall asleep immediately or twist and turn the whole night.

There wasn't anything he could do about it. She was in a mental hospital for schizophrenia and would probably stay there for the rest of her life. They both knew this, although they never spoke of it. His father wasn't in the picture anymore. Never really had been actually. William Reid had left his mother and himself when he was ten years old. His being a muggle while his wife and son having magical abilities hadn't helped. Naturally, Diana Reid had been devastated, which only pushed her further into her own world and paranoia.

They'd moved to England a year later, because his mother had had a feeling of particular danger. To this day Spencer wasn't sure if it had been his mother's imagination or something real. He'd finished his NEWT's in five years (he was quite a quick learner after all) and they'd moved back to America again. Well, his mom had almost dragged him there when she was convinced her employer had committed several murders and they were about to be next. Eventually Spencer had felt compulsory admittance to be necessary when he turned eighteen, going against his mother's explicit wishes. She'd been angry for a while, but had resigned herself to this unconsciously known inevitable fate.

The water was boiling, so he took it off the stove while turning it off and made himself some fruity green tea. He was used to doing things the muggle way, without magic to help make actions easier and quicker, but it didn't bother him. He almost spilled the hot beverage over himself as he stumbled over the threshold towards the fireplace. Clutching the mug tightly he sat himself down on the shag rug. This position wouldn't be comfortable for very long, so he would not loose himself in thought entirely and would actually retire to bed at a reasonable time.

Spencer had been terribly afraid the relationship with his mom would never return to what it had always been, but Diana Reid was not a woman of holding lifelong grudges towards her beloved son. He knew for sure there would not ever be someone who could love him as she did.

Sipping his still very hot tea he thought of how he'd entered the BAU a year and a half after his mother was committed. He'd felt lost for quite a while, loosing himself in his studies and research. The Behavioural Analysis Unit had taken him in as a wandering child, an orphan, giving him some kind of meaning to his life again. Especially Jason Gideon had been watching over him and they had somehow developed a kind of parental friendship. He had left Quentico for good though, two years back, not being able to handle the stress the job carried. Spencer had accepted this, but missed him terribly from time to time. Although Emily Prentiss had joined their team not long after that and they experienced a more equal friendship compared to that with Gideon, he'd lost the feeling of real belonging for a bit. It was just a job, shared with a few of the probably most amazing people in the world.

He made another mental note to write Emily the following day as he set aside his mug and put his arms over his knees, looking at the flames that hold the colours of a sunset. Next to his mom and Hagrid, Emily was the only one sharing his magical abilities he was still in contact with. The rest of his friends were muggles, which immediately put up somewhat of a wall between himself and them; at least, in Spencer's mind. He couldn't tell them everything. He couldn't share details about that which made him enthusiastic. He would always have to keep silent on certain issues and therefore an equal relationship was impossible.

It had been part of the reason to move to England. He didn't know how long he would stay here. He would teach at Hogwarts for at least a year, but he always had the possibility of returning to the BAU, as he had taken a sabbatical. They were reluctant to let him go and desperate to have him returned, so he'd had a special treatment concerning his temporary leave. The twenty-four year old was really grateful, but if he was being honest with himself, he didn't know whether he would return or not. He wasn't sure if teaching would be something for him as well. He just needed some time away, for himself, _of_ his usual self. Now he was here. He was just going to enjoy himself and see what would come at him.

Pushing himself up, he picked up his black walnut wand ***** from the table where he had left it earlier and waved it towards the fireplace, quenching the fire. A small grin formed at his lips, thinking about his lessons starting the next day.

* * *

 *** In OotP Luna is reading The Quibbler upside-down and it is later explained, when Harry is browsing it, that the reason was that this way the runes would reveal a spell which would turn your enemy's ears into kumquats.**

 *** _Aperire ianua_ means "opening the door"**

 *** Black Walnut (also _Juglans Nigra_ ) wands are this according to Ollivander's notes: "Less common than the standard walnut wand, that of black walnut seeks a master of good instincts and powerful insight. Black walnut is a very handsome wood, but not the easiest to master." I felt it was appropriate to be the material for Spencer's wand. I got the information from harrypotter dot wikia dot com, if you're interested.**


	7. Chapter Seven

**AN:** **Hope you'll enjoy.  
** **Thank you, guest reader, for reviewing the previous chapter! It's good to hear you liked to learn a little more about Spencer.**

 **Please, please, pretty pretty please (read in the tune of "Hoggy Warty Hogwarts"),** **review?** **It helps me! You all are my muse! I will respond to them from now on.**

 **With love,  
Cornelia Spring**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Hermione lumped down in a seat next to Neville, grumpily pulling her bag off her shoulder and dropping it to the ground with a small thud. It was lunchtime, so the Great Hall was already filled with most of the students, eager to discuss their first classes of the year and complain about the high amount of homework given to them.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked while slicing a sausage.

"Fine," she snapped. She poured pumpkin juice into her cup, took a gulp and vigorously put down her cup, making the liquid splashing over the side. The brown-haired witch groaned.

"I somehow forgot to set my alarm last night, so I was late for Arithmancy," – she grabbed a chicken sandwich from the plate in front of her – "one of the Slytherin prefects apparently has gotten the flu overnight," – put it on her plate – "so I had to take care of a replacement to help their first years with their starting up," – took hold of her knife and fork – "which made me late again, for Charms this time," – she put the cutlery down again when realising eating with her hands was more convenient – "then on my way here Peeves was dropping water balloons all over the second floor," – she grabbed the sandwich – "so that had to be dealt with!" And took a large bite.

Neville blinked a few times. "But you weren't even late for Charms," he said blankly.

Hermione swallowed the bite of bread. "Not for class, no, but I wanted to discuss something with professor Flitwick, about a possible textbook for students in their NEWTs-year."

"Only you are able to find something to talk about with the professors when classes haven't even started yet," a feminine voice said from behind the couple of Gryffindors, making them both turn in their seats.

"Hi Ginny," Neville grinned.

"Don't you laugh at me, mister," Ginny sternly said, narrowing her eyes at him while obviously deliberately taking a seat next to Hermione.

"What has he done to you?" Hermione asked, her foul mood suppressed by curiosity.

"Nothing!" Neville answered defensively, now smiling broadly.

"I partnered up with him at Charms," Ginny explained, seemingly annoyed. "You know how we had to practice the spells we'd learned in sixth year. Longbottom here thought he'd give non-verbal spells a go. Well," her twinkling eyes gave away her mirth, "do you remember the _Tarantallegra_ -spell? It was something like that."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up and she bit her bottom lip trying to stifle a grin.

"Not the actual Dancing Feet Spell, I hope," she said, giving Neville a teasing stringent look. "How could I have missed that though?"

"I was desperately holding onto the side of my desk to not let anyone notice," the redhead now raised her voice in despair and through up her hands for effect. "And while I was dancing the cha-cha-cha or something, you" she glanced at Neville, who was doubled with laughter now, "were in such a state as you are now. I hope you choke on it!"

"But you were great!" He managed to say, wiping a tear from his eye. "I didn't know you could dance that well. You never showed at the Yule Ball."

"Because you were constantly standing on my toes, you dummy!" She reached behind Hermione to give him a playful slap on the back.

Hermione looked at her male friend with amusement as he tried to tickle Ginny in her sides, failing miserably as he got to be the one being tickled. He put up his arms to surrender and cried "Mercy! Mercy!" while a smugly smiling Ginny sat back in her seat.

Neville had really grown into a confident young man, not looking that bad either. Sure, he was still somewhat buck-toothed and he would probably never totally loose his clumsiness, but his blond hair fell just over his ears now, streaks of darker colours giving him an almost surfer look. It suited him, making his caramel coloured eyes shine brighter than they seemed before. He'd grown a lot the last three years as well, leaving his chubbiness behind. His newfound handsomeness had only contributed to his number of fans, mostly girls and, strangely, divorced women whose children were old enough to live on their own. He was just as famous as the rest of them, sometimes mentioned as The Snake-Slayer; perhaps only a little less than the Golden Trio.

Despite the amount of choice for a girlfriend if he wanted to, Hermione knew he'd lost his heart to another blond they had known for a while now and had been through a lot with. The girl had already helped him get out of his shell more, but a steady, fun and loving friendship had developed between the two of them over the years. Neville seemed hesitant to take any further steps though and the witch in question was quite, well, extraordinary, so Hermione wasn't always sure if the girl's feelings were more than friendly.

Speaking of Luna, the younger witch had just entered the Great Hall, wearing her incomparable hat again. She was looking around dreamily and walked towards their seats at the Gryffindor table as she spotted them, though she did not seem to actually see them.

Hermione joined the two Gryffindors in their greetings, smiling to herself when she noticed Neville's cheeks turning slightly pink. Perhaps she could subtly help him a little with this, wanting very much to see her friend happy.

"Luna, hi! Do you want to sit down?" Ginny said, scooting up to make some space between Hermione and herself.

Luna smiled broadly at her redheaded friend and sat down, making Hermione lean a little away from her, watching the mirror-device warily.

"Do you like it?" Luna beamed at her. It had sounded like a rhetorical question.

"Luna, what exactly are you wearing today?" Neville asked politely.

"Oh, this?" The blond haired girl touched her hat with two fingers for a second, as if there was anything as noticeable around. Her silver eyes seemed to shake a little of her normal dreaminess off as they focussed on her friends. "It's a Beast Tracker," she said excitedly, "my dad made it for me last year. He's busy making himself one as well, because I really wanted to bring it to school."

Ginny and Hermione shared a look. Luna didn't notice or chose not to.

"And what does it do _exactly_ ," Ginny asked with a genuine smile.

"It's constantly tracking if there are any Beasts or creatures around."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Wouldn't that be obvious as we'd, you know, see them?"

"Humans have the tendency to not use their eyes properly," the younger witch answered, ignoring the other witch's sarcasm with her lackadaisicalness. "And some creatures are invisible. So, the Tracker helps."

Neville nodded appreciatively. "I think it looks cool." This earned him a warm smile and his own grew with that.

"Thank you, Nev."

"Sooo, how have you been, Luna? We haven't seen you since… well, just after the funerals."

The mood suddenly shifted as Ginny brought up memories of just before the summer.

"Oh, I've been fine. Dad and I were happy to spend some time together before I had to go back here. It's been nice seeing everyone again and I'm enjoying lessons. Divination was nice. But," she turned to Hermione, "you're not feeling very well. Are you okay?"

Hermione blinked a few times to the abrupt change of focus. She felt her cheeks grow warm as the note from last night came to her mind instantly.

"I, I'm fine. Just had a… a rough start this morning," she stumbled. How did Luna always do that?

The latter touched her hand softly and looked her dead in the eye, a serious glance in hers.

"You know you can tell me everything."

"I – Yes. Of course, Luna. Thank you." She forced a smile as she felt her other two classmates looking inquisitively at her.

Luna would probably not be the first to have come to her mind _if_ she had wanted to tell someone about the offensive message she found yesterday. It was nice to know there would always be someone who listened, though. Someone who never laughed at someone's expense and took a lot seriously. Perhaps a little too much, Hermione thought with a silent snort, but she was just such a different person than herself. Luna didn't need evidence, sometimes faith was enough. It couldn't be more opposed to Hermione than that; she always needed proof and wanted to know everything, being absolutely certain. The characteristic of the blond definitely made her a very lovable person; a little silly perhaps, but highly respected among her friends and as of lately a larger part of the magical world as well.

Hermione shrugged quizzically towards Ginny and returned to her sandwich. The conversation around her took off again; now about Divination, which everyone knew she didn't care about, so it wouldn't be too strange for her not to participate. She could let her mind wonder over the note again.

Sure, her bad mood was partly because of that which she told her friends, but the words she went to sleep with last night were the main catalyst. She hadn't slept well; just kept turning and turning, wondering if she would do well not to go to a professor with it. She knew that a few years ago she wouldn't have wasted time over it and in her core she felt the need to tell McGonagall, she really did. But something kept her from it. She didn't want to. She just wanted to forget it happened. It wasn't rational and therefore not like herself, but it was how she felt about it. She did make herself promise that she would go if she received more of those notes. For now, it could just be a nasty aftershock of the time magical England went through.

Maybe it won't happen again. _It probably won't_ , she told herself sternly. Just after the war, with Voldemort gone and his followers arrested? No, it would be stupid for someone to continue this now. She could always tell the Headmistress about the one note in a few weeks or even months, to let her know there was someone walking around at school with that kind of thoughts. Hermione felt a little nauseous at the thought, going over the 'MUDBLOOD'-scars on her arm unconsciously.

Perhaps it hadn't been the figure that had bumped into her just after the feast yesterday. It could have been put in her robes earlier, on platform 9 ¾ while she was waiting for most of the students to arrive and get on the train, for instance. It was always chaos at the platform and anyone could have gotten there. She didn't know for sure when and how it had turned up in her robes, which made up for another excuse not to turn the note in just yet. If she received another note at Hogwarts, that would give another clue and it could lead to more. She didn't have anything now, and McGonagall wouldn't know more than she did. It was best not to scare everyone with the stupid thing.

"… know that he is the great-great-great-granddaughter, or something, from one of those blokes from America, who founded their Ministry of Magic."

Hermione tuned back in. "You mean one of the representatives of MACUSA."

"Yeah, that's the one," Neville pointed his little finger at her while taking a gulp from his goblet.

"MACUSA?" Anthony Goldstein dropped in the seat across from Hermione, giving her a small smile.

"Magical Congress of the United States of America," she stated immediately. "It is indeed something like the Ministry of Magic in England. It was established at the end of the 17th century as a result of the Sale With Trials and almost alongside the International Statute of Secrecy. The first President of MACUSA was Josiah Jackson, also one of the representatives."*

The boy that had just taken a seat grinned at her. "I still can't figure out why you're not in Ravenclaw."

"Yes, well," her cheeks grew a little warm, not knowing what to say to that.

"I've wondered about that, too, you know," Ginny said, looking at her. "But I think no one here can claim you're not brave. You belong in Gryffindor."

"Thanks, Gin," Hermione smiled at her friend. "Anyway, I didn't know professor Weiss was distant family from one of the representatives. Did she live in America then?"

"They asked her to come and teach here. No one else would do it." Luna's dreamy voice didn't change when speaking about facts.

"I guess people still think the position is cursed," Ginny said thoughtfully. "Can't blame them, though."

"That makes two American professors then," Hermione observed. When she only received puzzled looks, she continued. "Professor Reid is also American. When I met him on the train I noticed he had an American accent and I've never heard of him before, so I guess it fits. I think he already lived here in England though, as his accent is only slight."

"Well, it only adds to his handsomeness, don't ya think?" Ginny wiggled her eyebrows, something she did regularly. Hermione grinned while Neville looked at their redheaded friend sheepishly.

Her voice turned bitter when she said "Getting back to the topic of professor Weiss, I do hope we will finally learn some _defence_ against the dark arts this year."

"Me too. I'm in desperate need of some catching up."

This coming from the lips of Hermione Granger triggered some goodhearted mutters and protests, along the lines of " _You_ needing catching up?! Don't make me laugh."

"Although I must agree with them," Anthony started, earning him a glare, "I wanted to go over some prefect stuff. Can I walk you to Ancient Runes?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione answered, putting the last piece of her second sandwich in her mouth. "Can we take a detour though? I meant to go to the library this morning, but I didn't get to it."

"Sure," the boy shrugged. "Shall we go then? I don't want to be late. I think we'll be going over the difference between Wizard Ancient Runes and Muggle Elder Futhark and how they came into existence."*

Hermione felt a feeling of excitement go over her, making her calm inside. She always had that when there was a prospect of learning something particularly interesting.

"Oh, no, then we definitely shouldn't be late." She stood up, picked up her bag and smiled at her friends.

"I'll see you guys later. Luna, I will see you in a minute." Luna waved happily after her while she turned around and walked out of the Great Hall with Anthony.

Ten minutes later she had what she looked for, and they walked out of the library towards the Ancient Runes classroom on the sixth floor.

"I believe it was mentioned when we started the subject in third year; the link between wizard and muggle runes, I mean," the blonde said, "I have been curious about it since then, but never looked it up."

"I did, actually," Hermione said, carefully stepping over a trick step on the staircase, "in fourth year. The library didn't have a lot on it, only a few short mentions in a handful of books. I asked Madam Pince if she could provide some about the subject, but she just told me no."

"I'm not surprised," Anthony laughed. "Madam _Pince_ always makes me _wince_."

"Wow, _Anthony_ ," she rolled her eyes with a grin on her face, "that was _golden_." He laughed at her alluding to his last name.

They arrived at the classroom and Anthony gestured for her to enter first. " _Blimey_ , _Hermione_ , why so _spiny_?" She now laughed with him.

"Let's sit down, mister _whiny_ ," she teased back, putting her bag on one of the desks and starting to pull out materials. The Head Boy placed his stuff on the desk next to it, smiling at her.

 _This isn't going to be a bad year_ , Hermione thought when she sat down and thought of her friendly back and forth with Anthony. She had known that already, he had always been nice, but they were really getting friends now. She was glad.

They kept on talking for a bit while the classroom was slowly filled with students.

"Quiet please," a soft voice requested from the back of the class. Professor Reid closed the door with one hand before walking to the front of the class, his wizard robes floating behind them.

"Please open your textbooks on page 14."

* * *

 *** Helmut Weiss was, along with eleven others, an Auror and representative of MACUSA. I invented the person of professor Leah Weiss. The information on MACUSA and Helmut can be found on harrypotter DOT wikia DOT com.**

 *** The Elder Futhark runes are a real thing and are actually the oldest form of runic alphabets (Proto-Germanic). There are some indications in the movies that these runes were used. This information can also be found on Harrypotterwikia.**


	8. Chapter Eight

**AN: Merry Christmas everyone! This extra long chapter is my gift to you.  
I want to let you know I really haven't given up on the story, but I found out I'm just a shitty writer. Can't keep it going.  
** **A shoutout thanks so much to the four Guest-readers, hukomuyo and Draustauv for your reviews! I will try to keep writing and thus posting.  
For now: enjoy your Christmas diners with family and friends!**

 **With love,  
Cornelia Spring**

* * *

Chapter eight

The bell rang. Spencer's NEWT's class immediately made noise, making it impossible not to raise his voice.

"Don't forget to translate the parts of the Yakutsk-sic Scrolls I mentioned earlier and think about what part you want to write your assignment about!" *****

Some students nodded while putting books back into their schoolbags. Spencer sighed and sat behind his desk, organizing his papers.

Teaching the oldest students in Hogwarts was fun, he found, more so than the younger ones. It was more challenging; they came up with interesting questions and intelligent remarks.

He felt exhausted though. It wasn't usual for him to meet so many people he had to really get to know. And were so darn loud. Of course, he remembered their names, he only had had to read the class lists to do that. But he was used to his own small team and only briefly working with other teams, mostly just focussing on the case at hand before going home again.

He ran his hand over his eyes, stood and started collecting his books that were scattered over his desk. Before he'd gotten the chance to put everything in his bag, he suddenly had a student in front of him, it seemed appearing out of nowhere.

"Hello professor Reid," a steady voice said, and he looked up. "I was wondering if there is some room in the syllabus for extra credit by exploring research fields we're not covering."

Spencer found himself a little dumbfounded by the sudden appearance of Hermione Granger, again, and blinked at her.

"Extra credit?" He said. "You find yourself bored already?" He grinned at her.

A little extra colour came to her cheeks.

"Oh – no, I think the Yakutsk Scrolls are very suitable for NEWT-level student. Doable yet challenging, besides interesting. I actually read about a theory a few months back that suggested the Scrolls were influenced by the Kazakh-Chinese Hieroglyph's and ancient Egyptian scripts, perhaps even Muggle ones. Anyway," she gave a little shake of the head, "we expected to be starting the year with the origins and overlap of Wizard and Muggle Ancient Runes."

He knew about the theory she talked about, having read the article of Real Runic Magazine of some scientist who spent half his career on the topic. He was taken aback by her knowing of it, and ached to get to discuss the article. Before he could jump to that, he would have to address the curriculum first.

"And why is that, Hermione?" It felt a little weird speaking in last names, so he decided right there he simply wouldn't. Besides, she had a beautiful name. Greek mythology had always had a special place in his heart. *****

"Well, we've never spoken much about the subject in class, you see, yet it was important enough to be mentioned once in the previous years. The library has next to nothing about it, and it would really be a shame if we would to receive our NEWT's without knowing anything about it." Her eyes sparkled as the words tumbled out of her mouth. "I think this really is the time to not avoid intertwining the Wizard and Muggle worlds, to get rid of the prejudices."

"I couldn't agree more." He smiled warmly at her. "That is why I've saved it for the second part of the semester."

He chuckled softly when she looked slightly ashamed.

"But I like how you're excited to get to it. Your idea is awesome, and I really did consider it, but I was surprised you hadn't covered anything on Yakutsk yet, while it really influenced and therefore explains other scrolls."

He started fumbling through the piles of books.

"I can't give you extra credits, simply because it wouldn't be fair to your classmates. They already groaned about the homework you got today, and we're just getting started. But if you're really interested, I could give you some reading recommendations. You know, if you're, uh, really… interested."

Spencer suddenly found himself stumbling over his words. He was excited someone showed more excitement in the subject he was teaching than he'd expected. He'd learned genuine interest in school subjects was not always found.

Yet, here Hermione was practically bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"I would love that! Do you have a list?"

"I – yes, I mean, no. But I could make you one. You can even borrow some titles from me, if you want, because I'm not sure if the library here has a lot on the subject."

Not having found what he was looking for, he sat down, grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill, and started scribbling.

"You really don't have to read all of them to get a better idea of the link between both Runic worlds, but I'd highly recommend Haisha Trude's work, especially her larger, more specific work on certain rare runes found in Germany. But also," he saw her trying to read along upside down, " _France: their most beautiful yet secret treasure_ by Charles LeFebre, a very good book about Runic transcriptions during the time of Napoleon, which you may also identify as a novel, and is highly amusing if you can read in the original language, but the English copy will do…"

He let his voice trail away, scratching his head.

"You know what, why don't you come by my rooms later this afternoon or after diner, so I can make you a proper and useful list."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "That would be great, professor!"

"Yes, well, it's no problem at all." Spencer mumbled to his desk.

"I have Head Girl-duties in the afternoon, but if seven o'clock suits you, sir?"

"Yeah, that's absolutely fine. I'll see you then."

"Bye, professor. Good luck with the rest of your first day!" She smiled at him while she nodded and turned around to leave. Spencer hadn't noticed the classroom had gone entirely empty as he'd rambled on about books. She hadn't seemed to mind, though, but he'd make sure his list wouldn't contain an impossible amount of literature, hoping she'd remain interested.

The rest of the day went by smoothly. He kept working on the list for Hermione, scratching some while adding others. In the end the list turned out longer than he wanted, but shorter than he normally would've done. He kept saying to himself how it would even be a great deal if she made a beginning in one or two, expanding her knowledge on the subject and giving herself the ability to receive above 85% on tests.

"We will see," Spencer sang-whispered to himself as he waved his wand in the direction of his private living area, making books, papers and one or two mugs fly to their destination.

He glanced at his watch: 18:23. Planning out his lessons was done for today and he had no assignments to grade yet this early in the year. He grabbed a new piece of parchment, his special letter-writing quill and an inkwell. He hadn't gotten to write to Emily yet, so this was as good a time as any. His mom would enjoy another as well, he knew. He wrote his mom first, and then started on the one for Ems. She probably wanted to hear all about his first day, and they should really pin a date to go out for drinks again soon. Between working it was hard to keep in touch with friends sometimes. It would be easier for him now, as his schedules were more stable and he resided in the same continent.

A few minutes later a knock on the door made him aware of the time. 19:00 on the dot.

"Come in!" He called, waving his hand in the direction of the door, willing it to show the outsider the handle. He kept writing as the door opened with a slight squeak and feather light steps entered his chambers.

"Sorry, I'm almost finished. Please have a seat."

Spencer looked up for a just a moment to see Hermione standing in front of the now closed door, looking around. He heard her walk towards the sofa en take a seat, all very quietly.

His handwriting suffered under his pressure, but he didn't want to have to finish it later; it was almost done anyways. Half a minute later he put down a hug onto the parchment and folded it to bring it to the owlery after Hermione's visit, or tomorrow if he didn't feel like going out anymore. He stood from his desk and found her reading the back of a book that he had finished and laid down on the coffee table this afternoon.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked her, walking towards the kitchenette.

"Hm? Oh – yes, please." She returned her attention back to the book, opening it to the first pages probably to read a few lines.

"Although it's not on the list, of course, I would highly recommend it." He put on the kettle and walked back to lean in the doorframe, face towards his student. "Do you like fiction? Fantasy stuff?"

"I do, sometimes," she answered, appearing to already having started on the story. He smiled a little to himself while pouring two mugs with hot water and grabbing the box with all different kinds of tea. It was so recognizable, losing yourself in a book anywhere.

He levitated everything with wandless magic towards the table in front Hermione and set it down. She closed the book, a little reluctantly he would say, and laid it next to the mugs.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't nose through your things, professor," She apologized.

He sniffed.

"That was hardly nosing. You can lend it from me if you'd like to finish it. Although I'm not sure if that's the right thing to do, because maybe then I will have made that list in vain."

She grinned.

"No, that shouldn't ever get in the way of learning. Professor." She added matter-of-factedly.

"I see," he offered her the box with tea, out of which she chose the cinnamon flavoured. "I hope the suggestions I am making turn out to be at least a bit useful." He beckoned towards his desk, sending the list towards them and grasping it out of the air. Hermione looked at him with raised brows.

"What?" He asked, suddenly conscious of himself.

"Your wandless magic is very advanced, professor," she answered, dipping the teabag into her water.

"Oh – that. I'm actually maintaining it at the moment, trying with easy stuff. When I knew I would be teaching here I started practising again, because I was shitty –" He began to stammer. "Erm – bad at it. I was pretty… bad at it."

Hermione smiled softly as she wrapped her hands around the mug.

"Excuse me, I should use proper language amongst students."

"That's quite alright, professor, you could've done much worse."

"I'm sorry I kept you waiting for a bit," he handed her the list. "I was just writing to a good friend of mine."

"It was no problem at all, sir. I understand if you would want to finish something you've already started. I hate it when my friends bother me while I'm busy."

She looked down at the list a little awkwardly.

"Yeah, it can be."

There settled a silence between them as Hermione went over the list. He blew over his tea while waiting for her to finish. When he was in school he would grow frustrated over other people's reading speed, but he had learned to be patient. They really couldn't help it he was weird. She finished earlier than he'd expected, though.

"This looks amazing, professor. Thank you." She smiled gratefully at him. "Would you recommend reading in this particular order?"

"Yeah, actually. It starts out with some general oversights and history, you see…" He went to sit next to her on the sofa and pointed at the first two books on the paper in her hand. "…here. The next three," he went to explain as he traced the titles down, "are written about specific research area's. These few are either a mix of subjects or a novel, or both." He leaned back on the couch and watched her watching the list. A whiff of her scent tickled his nose, which made him think of wood and berries. How did anyone come to smell like that?

"Are all these or some of them available in the library here?" She looked at him with the question in her brown eyes. Spencer strangely noticed they had the colour of honey.

"…I'm not entirely sure. You know, most of these I have here, so while you search for the others in the library, you can start off with the first title, which you can borrow from me." He got up, walking towards his trunk that stood in the corner and opening it. "Just – give me a second, alright?" He smiled assuringly back at her. Her slightly confused and curious eyes followed him as he stepped into his trunk.

He stepped down the small ladder that led to his trunkroom filled with every book he owned. Of course he didn't actually _need_ them, as he remembered every word in each one, but he enjoyed having his own library. His own place he could bring anywhere he travelled. Not that he took it with him on cases, but like now, when he had had to move, it would be part of his home. His roots were a little messed up because of the 'growing up in different countries so far apart'-part of his life, but this. This had been home since he was in his late teens. Nice warm colours, wooden bookcases, one unbelievably comfortable side chair and some good liquor to read by.

It was perfect for hiding as well.

He found the book in no time and started up the ladder again, watching upwards to see where he went and founding Hermione's face hovering above him, still curious, with dark curls hanging down around her head.

She blushed as she pulled away from his sight just before he climbed over the edge.

"I'm sorry, I was just curious to see what was down there. Professor," she added quickly.

He smiled at her. "That's okay, Hermione. It's just my library. Do you want to have a look?"

"No, no, that's quite alright," she shook her head, still pink in the cheeks, making her hair bounce around. It really was huge, like he'd seen in the papers, but even more impressive in real life. She took a last glance at the trunk before she turned her face towards Spencer, making him feel awkward for standing in the middle of the room like this.

"Is it an Undetectable Extension Charm?" She asked, looking him in the eye.

"I – well, I _should_ tell you it's not," he started slowly as he looked at her with slightly narrowed eyes. He barely knew the girl, but he should have thought of that before he got in the trunk and even offered her to go have a look around in there. _Idiot._ "Because they are illegal for private use, of course. It's really just my old Hogwarts trunk. But…" He started towards the sitting area again, gesturing for her to do the same, "you just saw me climbing in, so you already figured out that I, well, put a few changes to it." He looked down as he sat in the chair next to the coffee table while she slowly retook her seat on the sofa, grinning softly.

"That's pretty impressive, from what I _know_ about the spell."

"You mean what you read about it?" He asked, not noticing her emphasis.

"Not necessarily, no." She now practically looked like a Slytherin with that sly look on her face, putting some of her hair behind her ears. Most of it fell out immediately to her face again.

"I – what? Have you been taught them in class?!"

She chuckled. "No! I mean, I did read a lot about them when I thought of using it one time."

"You did? Did you use it?"

"Well, I _should_ tell you no," she imitated.

"Wow. Good for you. That's some difficult magic, that is. Where'd you use it on?"

"A purse."

Spencer looked up into her glittering eyes.

"I'm sorry, did I hear that right?" He blinked a few times. "You used the Undetectable Extension Charm – an illegal spell – one that could end you up in Azkaban if used the wrong way, and found out, of course – one that is _above_ NEWT-level… on a _purse_?!"

She giggled into her hand.

"If you put it like that, it sounds terribly perfunctory."

Spencer nodded, feeling astounded. Hermione giggled again.

"We were on the run for months, so it really came in handy."

He looked at her turned serious complexion then, with it the moment of innocent fun died.

"Did you bring it back to its old state?"

The glittering came back to her eyes. It made her look quite… alive. "I _should_ tell you yes…"

"And I believe you!" He declared, putting his hands up as if it were as simple as that. "I know of nothing."

"Thank you," she said while giving him a warm smile, "professor."

For some unknown reason, it then bothered him that this only a few years younger woman across from him, to whom he was talking as an equal, would have to call him professor.

"Please, you can call me Spencer, if – if you wouldn't, you know, if you don't mind. But not in class, um, alright? I've only just started on lessons and still need to gain that respectful fear students, and some professors I should add, have for professor McGonagall."

She laughed out loud now.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I have just now given you a free pass to laugh at me."

"Sorry, _Spencer_ , if I gave you the feeling I was laughing _at_ you. I would _never_ dare, especially to such a terrifying professor!" She clasped her hand over her heart, as if being hurt by the thought alone, the mirth still in her eyes.

He huffed, but grinned.

A comfortable silence settled between them, as Hermione glanced at the list again, still chuckling a little, and Spencer looked into his fireplace and sipped his tea. He felt grateful to feel so welcome, on his first day, the feeling evoked by The Golden Girl, no less.

He took a large gulp of air as he finally took up the courage to touch the subject he had wanted to discuss with her all day.

"Hermione, about the article of Real Runic Magazine: the Yakutsk Scrolls being influenced by the Kazakh-Chinese Hieroglyph's and ancient Egyptian scripts? How strong did you find John Ardlay's argumentation?"

They talked a while about the article and more interesting theories the magical scientific world had come up with in the last few years. He found her quite informed on the going on's.

When there came another silence, he asked if she wanted some more tea, which she gladly accepted. As he conjured the teapot from the kitchen and poured two more cups, Hermione spoke.

"Professor – I mean – Spencer," she quickly corrected, "can I ask you something personal?"

He nodded his assent.

"You are from the United States, yes?"

He repeated his action.

"Why did you move here? I mean, not to be rude, but magical England is in shatters. Why move here now?"

An uncomfortable shiver travelled up Spencer's spine. She'd asked the exact question he didn't know an answer to. He sighed, giving her the factual one.

"There was a shortage of teachers after the war here, so they asked me to come over."

"Which doesn't say anything about _your_ reason to answer that question in the affirmative."

 _She is quite the busybody, isn't she?_ Spencer thought as he swallowed and Hermione looked at him with intelligent and searching eyes.

"I –" He started, but stopped immediately. Opening his mouth and then closing it again a couple of times, he felt warm. His brain wasn't coming up with any word at all, while mostly he almost couldn't keep up with his thoughts.

"Don't – don't you think it's hot in here? I should turn the fire down a bit." He told her quickly, stood up and walked towards the hearth.

She blinked and blushed a little, though Spencer was too lost in thought to notice.

"I'm sorry, professor – I mean, Spencer," tumbled out. "I know I can be a little nosy at times. I didn't mean to obtrude."

He poked in the firewood with the poker. Why _did_ he come back?

"I'm – excuse me – I should go." He turned around to her picking up her schoolbag and pocketing his list. He put his hands up in alarm; he didn't want to scare her off with his awkwardness already. They had all year to come to that. There really was nothing to act so bloody stupid about; it was _only_ a matter of his personal life.

"No, no, no, please, stay. It's not you, it's me."

She sat down again, though a bit constrained.

"It's a good question. Hermione." He added. "I don't really know myself. It's not even a really intrusive question. It's also not rocket science, but I'm not that good with the feelings-stuff, you know. I'm very quick and smart –" He started to ramble now. "I mean, not to sound arrogant or anything – I have a way with words and numbers, like in Ancient Runes or muggle mathematics, but when it comes to my own life and thoughts, I'm completely at a loss." He shot her an apologetic look, not wanting to come off weird.

Hermione didn't seem to notice as she thought about it.

"Perhaps you were in need of a change, in career or scenery," was her insight.

"I do feel a little relieved to have such an innocent job."

This earned him an inquisitive look.

"I worked for the FBI as a member in their Behavorial Analysis Unit, the BAU. We do profiling of criminals and victimology. It's really interesting and I learned a lot by all the cases and my co-workers, but it can get quite… heavy. There's not much room for another lifestyle, or something, I guess."

Spencer felt lighter. This was all true. Talking about it this factual was easy, but also gave him a better idea of the why.

"Oh, I've always been intrigued by that kind of psychological police work." Hermione leaned forward in her seat. "What did you like about your job?"

"I love the puzzles that come along with it and being a part of such a special team of investigators. Everyone has their own talents and specialties and then to solve a hard case you've been working on with each other, giving relatives closure and playing a role to get more justice in the world… that's just great." He smiled broadly and felt warm inside his chest.

"It sure sounds like it," Hermione said, tilting her head. "So, what made you leave?"

"I… think, for now, I've had enough of heavy and sad cases. You are bound to get caught up in some of them, which can be really intense, you know. Especially when… when you get involved yourself or – or even your loved ones. I mean," _DUH_ , "you'd probably know." His voice faded. How could he be rambling on about his stupid troubles when she'd experienced a bloody war?

Hermione leaned back again, her hair falling in front of her eyes. She steered them back to the place behind her ears while never letting her eyes off his.

"Thank you."

"Wha – What?" Confusion clouded his features.

"Thank you. For not just assuming I only played some part in rescuing our world and not having lost loved ones as well."

"You're… welcome." His eyes were big. He'd done something right in communicating with _people_ without trying. Cool. Besides, she'd sounded like she had needed to hear someone else talk about doing something awesome without forgetting the suffering that comes along with it. He was glad he could help, even if it was so small. And unintentional.

She smiled and went to stand.

"I really should go now. I wanted to go by the library to get some homework done before turning in early; I have Head Girl-duties in the morning again." She said apologetically. "But thank you so much for the list, the books and the tea, Spencer."

He stood as well, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Yes, of course. I hope you'll find it useful in your research. You are always welcome to stop by for more tea and discuss the literature, or other theories, if you want." _Don't be too enthusiastic; don't scare an interested student off!_

"I would love that! Thank you so much, again. I'll see you at Thursday's class."

As he closed the door behind her, he smiled at himself. It felt like having an ally in this great scary school, where he should be the teaching adult now.

He grabbed the letters for his mom and best friend, waiting a minute to not run into her again, and headed off to the Owlery, whistling.

* * *

 *** Yakutsk is the capital city of the largest republic in Russia. There are no clues for runic inscriptions at the place, I just chose a city and decided it would be cool if they'd found Wizard Rune scrolls there.**

 *** For those of you who didn't know yet (I had to look up the exact names as well), 'Hermione' is in Greek mythology the name of the child of the king of Sparta, Menelaus, and Helen of Troy.**


End file.
